Walk with me here…. Bucky x reader where the reader suffers from sleep paralysis. Bucky knows this but has never witnessed it. One night she has an episode and it looks like whatever she’s seeing is going to get Bucky. Once she gains control of her body again she throws herself on top of him. He wakes up and is concerned at first and then gets all soft because she was going to protect him.
There's a heaviness in your chest, like something has quietly decided to sit there. A strange awareness creeping in at the edges of your mind while your body refuses to follow. You know the feeling instantly, dread curling cold in your stomach before your eyes have even fully opened.
Not again.
You try to move your fingers first—always the fingers—but they don’t listen. Your breathing stays shallow, trapped, like even your lungs are hesitant to push too hard against whatever has you pinned.
Beside you, Bucky sleeps on, warm and solid and completely unaware, his arm draped loosely over your waist. His presence is usually enough to ground you. Usually enough to make the episodes shorter, quieter.
But tonight—
Tonight is different.
Because the moment your eyes fully open, you see it.
Standing at the edge of the room.
Too tall. Too still. Too wrong.
Your heart lurches violently against your ribs, panic slamming through you in a wave so strong you almost think it should break whatever hold this is. The shape doesn’t move, but you know—you know—it’s looking at you.
Watching.
Waiting.
No, no, no—
You try to speak. To call Bucky’s name. To do anything other than lie there helpless as your brain screams and your body betrays you.
Nothing comes out.
Your throat won’t work. Your jaw won’t move. You’re trapped behind your own eyes, forced to watch as the thing shifts.
It doesn’t walk.
It glides.
Closer.
Your vision blurs at the edges, tears gathering without falling, terror clawing up your spine as it crosses the room in slow, unnatural increments. Every instinct you have is screaming at you to move, to run, to do something—
But you can’t.
You can’t.
You can’t—
It stops at the side of the bed.
And then—
It tilts its head.
Toward Bucky.
Something inside you snaps.
No.
Not him.
Your fear fractures, reshapes, turns sharp and furious in your chest. The panic doesn’t disappear, but it changes—redirects—because whatever this is, whatever your mind is conjuring, it is not touching him.
Not Bucky.
Not yours.
You fight harder.
Every muscle strains, every nerve screaming as you try to force even the smallest movement. Your fingers twitch—barely—but it’s something. You cling to it, push harder, harder, harder—
The thing leans closer to him.
Your vision tunnels.
Your heart feels like it might explode.
Move.
Your arm jerks.
It’s weak, clumsy, but it’s real.
Move.
Your leg follows, then your shoulder, control snapping back into your body all at once like a rubber band finally breaking free—
And you lunge.
There’s no hesitation. No thought.
You throw yourself across Bucky, arms wrapping around him, pressing your body over his like a shield as if you can physically block whatever nightmare still lingers in your vision.
“Don’t—!” your voice finally works, raw and shaking. “Don’t touch him—”
Bucky startles awake beneath you.
Hard.
Years of training kick in instantly—his body tenses, metal arm shifting, ready to react—but it halts the second he registers you.
You.
On top of him.
Clinging.
Shaking.
“Hey—hey, doll—” his voice is rough with sleep and sudden alarm, hands coming up carefully, not pushing you off, just… holding. Grounding. “What’s goin’ on? You okay?”
You’re still half there, half not. Your eyes dart toward the side of the bed, expecting—
Nothing.
The room is empty.
Dark. Quiet. Safe.
Your breath stutters, coming too fast now, your grip on him tightening like you’re afraid if you let go, something will come back.
“It was—” your voice cracks. “It was here, Buck, it—” You swallow hard, shaking your head against his shoulder. “It was gonna hurt you.”
There’s a pause.
A beat where he processes that.
Then everythng about him softens
“Oh, baby…” His arms wrap around you properly now, pulling you closer, one hand cradling the back of your head as he tucks your face into his neck. “Hey, it’s okay. I got you. You’re alright.”
You cling to him harder.
“I couldn’t move,” you whisper, the words small, embarrassed despite everything. “I tried to wake you, I couldn’t—I thought—”
“I know.” His voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard it, steady and warm and there. “I know what it is. You told me, remember? Sleep paralysis.”
You nod against him, breath still uneven.
“It felt real,” you admit quietly. “It looked like it was coming for you.”
He huffs softly, not quite a laugh, pressing a kiss into your hair.
“Yeah?” he murmurs. “And what’d you do about it, huh?”
You hesitate.
Then, quieter, “I tried to protect you.”
That does something to him.
You feel it.
The way his chest rises a little deeper, the way his arms tighten around you—not in fear, not in tension, but something softer. Something fond.
“You threw yourself on top of me,” he says, voice low and almost… amused.
“I didn’t want it to get you,” you mumble.
There’s another pause.
And then he pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression impossibly soft, blue eyes warm even in the dim light.
“Doll,” he says gently, brushing his thumb under your eye where a tear finally escaped, “I’m a hundred years old, got a metal arm, and a body count that would make most people run for the hills.”
You sniff weakly.
“And you still decided you were gonna be my bodyguard?”
Your lips wobble despite yourself.
“I didn’t think about it,” you admit.
“I know you didn’t.”
He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there.
“That’s what makes it so sweet.”
Your arms loosen slightly around him, the adrenaline finally starting to ebb, leaving you tired and a little shaky. He notices immediately, shifting so you’re not hovering over him anymore, guiding you gently down so you’re tucked against his side instead.
One arm stays wrapped around you.
The other pulls the blanket up higher.
Safe.
“Next time it happens,” he murmurs, voice quiet against your hair, “you don’t gotta protect me, alright?”
You hum faintly, not fully agreeing.
He smiles into your scalp, tightening his hold just a little.
“But…” he adds softly, “I gotta say, I don’t mind knowin’ you would.”
Your eyes finally close, exhaustion pulling you under for real this time, your breathing evening out as you settle into him.
And long after you’ve fallen asleep, Bucky stays awake for a while.
Just holding you.
Just thinking.
Because no one’s ever looked at him and decided, without hesitation, that he was worth protecting.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓚𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓗𝓮’𝓼 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓮 — Michael Jackson x Black Reader
warnings: jealous/protective undertones, heavy PDA, possessive reader, clingy michael, kissing, public relationship dynamics, slight innuendo, reader being very territorial over michael, fluff, implied diana ross jealousy
Brief summary: During the We Are the World era, everybody on set notices just how attached you and Michael are to each other. Your relationship is soft, affectionate, and impossible to ignore, especially when certain people are watching a little too closely.
The studio was loud.
Voices everywhere, people moving around constantly, cameras flashing every few seconds, celebrities laughing across the room while production staff hurried back and forth trying to keep everything organized.
And somehow, through all of it, Michael still only seemed focused on you.
“You okay?” he asked softly for probably the fifth time in the last twenty minutes.
You looked up from where you were fixing the collar of his jacket, trying not to laugh. “Michael, baby, I’m fine.”
“Mhm,” he mumbled, unconvinced.
His hands settled automatically on your waist while he watched you straighten the fabric near his shoulders. Even surrounded by half of Hollywood, Michael stayed attached to you like he physically couldn’t help himself.
And
You didn’t mind at all.
Especially not tonight.
Because every time a certain somebody drifted a little too close to him, suddenly you felt extra affectionate.
Your fingers slid carefully through the curls near Michael’s forehead, fixing a few loose strands while he stood there staring at you all soft and shy like he always did whenever you touched him too much in public.
“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” you teased quietly.
Michael smiled immediately, ducking his head a little. “Can’t help it.”
Lord.
He was adorable.
You leaned up without hesitation and kissed his cheek slowly, purposely lingering for a second longer than necessary.
The reaction was immediate.
Michael’s entire face went pink.
“Oh my God,” he muttered under his breath while smiling hard, trying to hide it.
You just laughed softly and smoothed your thumb against his jaw.
“Cute,” you whispered teasingly.
Michael immediately hid his face near your shoulder. “Stop.”
“No,” you said instantly, grinning.
Across the room, a few people noticed immediately.
Lionel started grinning.
Quincy looked exhausted already.
And Randy burst out laughing from one of the couches nearby. “Man, she got you BAD.”
Michael rolled his eyes instantly, though he still looked ridiculously happy.
“Leave me alone,” he mumbled.
“You was not this clingy before her,” Jermaine added loudly.
“That’s what I’m sayin’!” Marlon laughed. “He follow her around like a lost puppy now.”
You started laughing before you could stop yourself, and Michael immediately turned toward you with the most offended expression imaginable.
“Baby, don’t encourage them.”
“Oh, but I’m encouraging this REAL bad,” Marlon said.
Michael groaned dramatically and pulled you closer against his side, burying his face near your shoulder for a second while everybody laughed at him.
Which honestly only made you more affectionate.
You turned your head slightly and pressed another kiss against the side of his neck this time.
That shut him up instantly.
“…girl,” he whispered weakly.
You felt him tighten his grip around your waist.
“Now you shy?” you teased softly near his ear.
Michael looked at you like you were trying to kill him.
And somewhere across the room, Diana noticed.
You noticed too.
So did Michael, judging by the way he suddenly got quieter beside you.
Your expression softened immediately.
Without even thinking about it, you reached up and fixed the curls near his face again before kissing his forehead gently this time.
“You okay?” you asked softly.
Michael looked at you for a second before smiling in that shy little way he did whenever he got overwhelmed.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I am now.”
God.
You loved him bad.
And judging by the way he looked at you?
Everybody else could tell he loved you even worse.
At one point while Quincy was talking to a group nearby, you casually walked over to Michael again and adjusted the chains resting against his jacket.
Michael blinked down at you immediately.
“You keep fixin’ my clothes,” he said softly.
“Because you keep lettin’ people mess ‘em up,” you teased.
He smiled again. That soft, stupidly pretty smile that always made you want to kiss him.
So you did.
Quick little kiss right near the corner of his mouth.
Michael froze instantly.
Jermaine nearly screamed.
“Oh my GOD,” he yelled dramatically. “Can y’all act normal for FIVE minutes?”
You burst out laughing while Michael tried hiding his face again.
“Nope,” you answered for him.
Michael looked absolutely gone.
Like genuinely gone.
Especially when you casually slid into his lap later during one of the breaks like it was the most natural thing in the world.
One of his arms wrapped tightly around your waist immediately while the other rested across your thigh.
Comfortable.
Automatically.
You leaned back against his chest comfortably while he rested his chin near your shoulder.
“You know people keep starin’ at us?” you whispered jokingly.
Michael shrugged against you without a single ounce of shame.
“Let ‘em stare.”
You turned slightly just to look at him properly because honestly? That confidence coming from him was rare.
Michael noticed immediately and smiled shyly again.
“What?”
“Nothin’,” you mumbled, grinning.
A few seconds later he leaned closer toward your ear quietly enough that almost nobody else could hear him.
“…I just like when you’re close to me.”
Your entire expression softened.
You turned your head and kissed him again, slower this time.
The room around you practically disappeared for a second.
And when you finally pulled away, Michael was smiling so hard it looked painful.
“There he go,” Marlon muttered dramatically from across the room. “That’s that look again.”
“You mean the look he get every time she breathe near him?” Randy added.
Everybody started laughing again.
Michael just rolled his eyes and tightened his arms around you even more while resting his face against your neck.
Like he needed everybody in the room to know exactly who you belonged to.
And maybe
Just maybe
You liked that a little too much.
Yes i was listening to micheal's music while making this
taglist: @simply-lovley44 @cocomilaa
just comment or send me a message if you wanna be added as well and make sure to check out my other works on michael and other characters. just check my pinned masterlist on my page, and if you have a request, please check my do’s and don’ts first. thank you 🫶🏽
also, i’m a new and young writer, and i just wanna say thank you for all the likes, reblogs, and follows. they really go a long way in showing me that the work i put a lot of time and effort into is appreciated.
Literally love your fics. Your fics are my fix. I check everyday to see if you posted bro. Hugs and kisses and money on the sidewalk to you.
Anyway, I was wondering if you’d write a sort of role reversal type oneshot? I see Bucky losing his shit when reader is kidnapped, but what about the other way around?
I’d love to see a very strong and level headed reader completely crash out at Bucky being held hostage by some evil organization, and completely disregarding all safeguards and just mowing down anyone who gets in her way. Maybe Bucky swooning a little.
I need him to be my damsel.
They take him on a Tuesday.
It’s supposed to be routine—recon, extraction, home by dinner. Bucky kisses your temple in the quinjet doorway, metal fingers warm at your jaw, and says, “Don’t wait up, doll.”
You don’t.
Because by hour six, something is wrong.
By hour ten, the comms are dead.
By hour twelve, Fury is in your ear using words like containment and protocol and wait for clearance, and something inside your chest goes dangerously, violently quiet.
You don’t cry.
You don’t scream.
You don’t argue.
You smile.
And that’s when everyone should’ve started running.
---
The facility is off the books, concrete and steel buried like a tumor beneath a dead industrial park. You don’t request backup. You don’t submit a plan. You land hard, roll once, and come up firing before the dust even settles.
Guards drop like punctuation marks—brief, final.
By the time anyone realizes who you are, you’re already inside.
Doors? You blow through them.
Safeguards? You override them.
Orders? You ignore them.
Your arm band flashes warnings you don’t read. Someone yells your name in your comms—Steve, maybe—but the only thing you hear is the memory of Bucky’s laugh when you steal his fries, the weight of his arm slung over your shoulders at night, the way he goes soft only with you.
---
They put him in a chair.
Restrained. Bruised. Blood at his hairline, lip split, eyes sharp but tired.
Still alive.
Still yours.
The first man between you and him reaches for a weapon.
He never finishes the motion.
You move like a force of nature. The kind of precision that comes from loving something so deeply it rewires your spine. The room fills with the sound of bodies hitting the floor, and through it all, Bucky watches you like he’s seeing you for the first time.
You tear the restraints apart with your bare hands.
“Hey,” you say softly, cradling his face like he’s made of glass instead of vibranium and rage. “I’ve got you.”
His breath stutters.
“You weren’t supposed to—” he starts, voice rough, guilt already trying to surface.
You press your forehead to his. “Shh. I don’t care.”
You scoop him up—bridal style, no hesitation. His metal arm curls instinctively around your neck, his face tucking into your shoulder like it’s muscle memory.
Someone down the hall screams for reinforcements.
You smile again.
The extraction is less an exit and more a massacre. You don’t slow down for alarms. You don’t flinch at explosions. You walk through fire with Bucky held tight against your chest, shielding him with your body like the world itself has made a terrible mistake by touching what’s yours.
On the quinjet, the moment the doors seal, the adrenaline drains.
Bucky cups your face, thumbs brushing under your eyes. “You’re shaking.”
You shrug. “Crash came a little late.”
He laughs—soft, stunned, a little breathless. Then he leans in and kisses you like he’s still making sure you’re real. Like he needs to ground himself in you.
“I always thought,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours, “if anyone ever took me… it’d be Steve losing his mind.”
You arch a brow. “Please. He’d file paperwork.”
Bucky snorts, then grows serious. “You didn’t hesitate.”
“Nope.”
“You didn’t wait.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You broke every rule.”
You grin. “Happily.”
Something warm and dizzy spreads across his face—pride, awe, something dangerously close to swooning. “Remind me never to be on your bad side.”
You kiss his knuckles. “You’re not.”
He exhales, melting into you, head dropping to your shoulder again. “Guess I was the damsel this time.”
You tighten your hold, smirking. “And you looked real pretty doing it.”
His laugh is quiet, wrecked, and completely in love.
Hi! I know you are busy, but, if you ever feel like it : what would Bucky do if reader was the person who receive the calls in the avengers tower. And one day, some military or whatever, call and ask for the Winter Soldier, and reader is so offended she hang up on the guy (could be a video call so Bucky see) and when he tries to call back she says something like "no sir we have no one by the name winter soldier, maybe try the nearest hydra office" or something equivalent... anyway... just an idea in my head.
oooooh, this was so interesting to think of!
----------
It started like any other morning in the comms room.
You’d come in with your iced coffee, slid into the rolling chair that squeaked every time you leaned back, and wiggled the mouse until the screen flickered awake. Half the job was routing calls to the right people—military generals looking for Steve, foreign officials demanding to speak with Natasha, civilians insisting Iron Man owed them for some property damage.
Most days were routine. Annoying, sure, but routine.
The other half of the job was babysitting the incoming video lines that never stopped flashing. You’d learned to multitask with one hand on your keyboard, one hand on your cup, muttering polite “Avengers Tower, how can I direct your call?” like it was a prayer.
But then that call came in.
The line ID read U.S. Military Command. Not unusual—they called a lot. You sighed, hit accept, and pasted on your customer-service smile.
“This is Avengers Tower,” you said. “How can I help you today?”
The man on the other end wasn’t smiling back. He looked like every arrogant middle-aged officer you’d ever seen in movies—square jaw, pressed uniform, enough medals on his chest to make him lean forward from the weight. His voice was clipped, official.
“I need to be connected with the Winter Soldier.”
You froze. For a second you thought maybe you’d misheard. Then your brain caught up, and the audacity of it made your jaw drop.
“Excuse me?” you said, blinking.
“You heard me,” he said. “The Winter Soldier. We’ve been informed he’s housed at your facility. We require immediate access to—”
You didn’t let him finish. Your finger slammed end call so hard the screen went black before he could blink.
The silence in the comms room rang loud, your pulse still thudding in your ears.
Winter Soldier. Like Bucky was nothing more than a weapon they could check out of an armory. Like he wasn’t a person who lived here, breathed here, healed here.
“Oh, absolutely not,” you muttered, shoving your coffee aside.
Another beep lit the screen. Same ID. You hit accept again, fire already in your chest.
“Avengers Tower,” you said, sugar-sweet, “and before you ask, no sir, we do not have anyone by that name. Perhaps you should try your nearest HYDRA office, see if they’re still taking calls.”
The officer’s face darkened. “Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to—”
“Do you have any idea how insulting you sound?” you shot back. “We don’t traffic in ghosts of war criminals here. We take care of people. So unless you’ve got a request for Captain America or literally anyone else, this call is over.”
And with that, you hung up again.
What you didn’t realize was that across the tower, in the gym, Bucky Barnes had seen the whole thing.
The internal system auto-mirrored active calls onto any common room screen, in case field agents needed to jump in. So there he was, dripping sweat, towel over his neck, when your feed lit up in the corner of the monitor. He’d caught every word.
The way the officer demanded the Winter Soldier.
The way your face pinched with offense.
The way you spat back with enough venom to make the man squirm.
By the time you hung up, Bucky was frozen mid-stride on the treadmill, chest heaving with something that wasn’t from exercise.
No one—no one—had ever defended him like that.
Not five minutes later, the door to the comms room creaked open.
You didn’t even look up from your screen. “If that guy calls back again, I swear I’m blocking the whole Pentagon.”
There was a chuckle. Deep, low.
“Doll,” Bucky’s voice rasped, and you whipped your head around.
He was leaning in the doorway, gray t-shirt darkened with sweat, hair damp at the temples. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between awe and disbelief.
“Oh,” you said, cheeks heating. “Uh—hi.”
“Hi,” he echoed softly.
You cleared your throat, fingers fiddling with your headset cord. “You, uh, saw that, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” he said. His lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. “I saw.”
“Listen,” you started, words tumbling fast, “I just—he called you that like it was nothing. Like you were some… some thing he could requisition. And it pissed me off, so I—”
“You hung up on him.”
You bit your lip. “Twice.”
That finally broke his composure. His laugh spilled out, startled and warm, filling the little room. “You told a U.S. general to try Hydra customer service.”
“Maybe not my most professional moment,” you admitted, but your chin lifted stubbornly. “But he had no right.”
Bucky stepped closer. Each pace was slow, deliberate, until he was right beside your chair, towering but gentle. His vibranium fingers tapped the edge of the desk.
“No one’s ever done that for me before,” he murmured.
You blinked up at him. “Done what?”
“Shut them down. Said I wasn’t…” He hesitated, eyes flicking to the dark screen. “That I wasn’t him anymore.”
Your chest squeezed. “Because you’re not. You’re Bucky Barnes. My friend. The guy who leaves protein bar wrappers in the elevator and hogs the washer on Sundays.”
A breath of laughter left him, shaky. “You make me sound real domestic.”
“Well,” you teased, “it’s better than sounding like a Hydra asset.”
The softness in his eyes nearly knocked you flat. “You don’t know what it means, hearing you say that.”
“Then tell me,” you said quietly.
He crouched so you were eye level. His flesh hand ghosted near yours, not quite touching, as if waiting for permission.
“It means,” he said slowly, “that every time someone calls me that name, I feel like I’m drowning. And then you come along, all fire and attitude, telling them I’m not theirs to call. You throw me a lifeline without even knowing it.”
Your throat tightened. Instinctively, you set your hand over his. Warm skin to warm skin.
“Then I’ll keep doing it,” you whispered. “Every damn time.”
For a long beat, neither of you moved. The comms screen stayed dark. The tower outside hummed with life. But in that little room, it was just you and him, steadying each other.
Finally Bucky huffed a breath, trying to lighten the mood. “You know you’re probably on some watch list now, right? Guy’s gonna file a complaint.”
“Let him,” you said. “What’s he gonna write? Secretary of Defense offended that Avengers receptionist called him a Hydra groupie?”
That pulled another laugh out of him, this one freer. His shoulders eased, and when he straightened up, some of the weight seemed gone from them.
“You’re something else, you know that?” he said.
You smirked. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
He shook his head, fond. “C’mon. Let’s grab lunch. My treat. Least I can do for my personal bodyguard on the phone lines.”
You stood, grabbing your coffee. “Only if you promise not to hog the washer this weekend.”
“Deal.”
The next morning, when the same ID flashed on the comms line, you didn’t even flinch.
You hit accept, leaned back, and said sweet as sugar:
“Avengers Tower. How can I help you? Oh, the Winter Soldier? No, sir, still no one here by that name. But if you’d like to speak with Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, decorated war hero, full human being, and man who makes an excellent grilled cheese… I’d be happy to connect you.”
From the corner of the room, Bucky’s laugh rang out.
And you thought—yeah. Let them put you on every watch list in the country. As long as he was laughing like that, you didn’t care.
Basically, hazbin hotel with a reader, who is really sweet and really nice. They are very protective, always want to take care of people, and being kind of a motherly influence to everyone in the hotel. I’m going to say they were there in the beginning when Angel Dust started there. They are very protective of their family, and they see everyone in the hotel as their family.
Then, one day, Angel comes back after a bad time with Val, and they are really injured and probably concussed. This reader doesn’t usually look like someone who is a demon, but when they see the injuries, they get a smile that looks like Alastor’s when he’s angry. As soon as the reader has confirmation it was Valentino, they look Angel in the eyes and ask if Angel would be okay with Valentino disappearing. Like, he would never be able to harm anyone else again, and no one from the hotel would get in trouble, and they are asking for permission because ‘You have had decisions made for you too many time, so I want to allow you to decide if you are okay with this.’
Angel, probably due to the concussion and not thinking the reader could do it, agrees. The reader has Angel go upstairs to rest/eat/take a bath and self care, and sends Husk upstairs to keep an eye on Angel. Then, reader pulls out a phone that isn’t their regular phone, and everyone in the lobby (Vaggie, Charlie, Alastor, Nifty, not sure about Sir Pentious) hears one side of the following conversation. The quotations are what the reader said, and there are pauses in between lines.
“Hey, raptor, it’s me.”
“I need a favor. You remember Valentino?”
“Relax, I didn’t make a deal with him, but someone I care about did. Look, I want to bring back the deal we had when I was alive. And I want full scorched earth with Valentino. I want to be sure he can never hurt anyone again.”
“Don’t try to cheat me, I remember the deal, since this is only one guy, I only need to give five days.”
“No- Don’t you dare-“
“Do I need to call Wren? Because I will.”
“Fine. One week, four ‘special’ nights.”
“If you get this done before the weekend is over, I’ll even let you all dress me up in whatever you want, one person choosing per day, and won’t complain.”
“Fine.”
“Have Wren or Raven call me afterwards, and I’ll arrange transportation with them.”
“Because if I arrange it with you, you won’t let me leave.”
“See you then.”
Then, reader hangs up, and breathes a sigh that is far heavier than the residents have ever heard before. Reader then smiles at them, wishes them a good night, and goes upstairs.
Are you guys interested in this? If I get more than 75 notes, I will link my ao3 and write it.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
(In a Severus lived universe)
Imagine after the Second Wizarding War, the Ministery wants to arrest Severus and send him to Azkaban and you're standing in between them with ice and fire in your eyes like..."If you touch him, if you even try to take him away, you'll have a war on your hands that will make Voldemort look like a child with a slingshot."
Hi there! If your taking requests can you do a Leon x reader where they have a baby and one night theyre sleeping in bed when there's an intruder in the house and it ends up being Ada and Leon goes to check it out and tries to reason with Ada. The reader goes to check on Leon when they see Ada holding their baby and hears her arguing with Leon. Leon telling her to hand the baby over and get the hell out but the reader steps between Leon and Ada and sizes Ada up saying "what the hell do you think your doing with my baby?" Like a badass reader and Leon being impressed and just so in love?
Thank You! 🥰
I will do my best!😅
Stolen Child
Words: 1,266
Contains: Daddy Leon, guns
Coming back from feeding your 5 month old daughter, you slide back in bed with your husband. Rolling over Leon had stayed awake just in case you needed his help, insisting you got it this time.
"Is she happy now?" He asks pulling you into his body to get comfortable once again.
"She is... But you should be asleep, you had it tough the last week." You were worried about your husband's health, he had come home to you bloody and bruised. You had been with Leon during Racoon City, you also had managed to live a fairly normal life. Working your way up to your own dream job as a successful Café owner.
"I'm alright, I just feel bad leaving you alone with her for so long."
You shake your head at his words and snuggle into his warm chest. "You do more than enough for both of us already." Sighing, you close your eyes. She would be wanting another feed at around 4am so you had a few hours to sleep.
An hour passes and you feel Leon pulling away from you leaving the bed. You wake up, but guess he was only going to the toilet. Staying on your side you start falling back asleep when you hear Leon talking, you groan and sit up. Does he really have a call at this time of night?
You reach over turning on the lamp beside you and look over to his table... No, his phone was right there. You didn't hear a knock at the door?
Sliding out of the bed, you use the carpet to your advantage and stay in the hall, listening to where his voice was coming from.
"I won't ask you again." There he was, in your daughters room, the tone of his voice had your heart racing. Peeking through the gap in the door you see Leon standing there, facing the window. His arms were extended, holding his gun in his hands. Trained on a woman holding something in her arms.
"Put her back in the crib or so help me I'll shoot." Leon's voice was low and demanding, but soft enough to not wake the still sleeping baby.
"You wouldn't do that, I might drop her." The woman's voice was smooth and sensual, mocking Leon with what she knew he would never do while his daughter was in danger.
You couldn't just stay hidden! Opening the door, the woman pulls her own gun on you. "What the hell are you doing with my baby!?" You didn't care if you woke her, you wanted her out of the arms of this intruder. Who would steal a baby?!
"Ada, don't." Leon warned as he steps between you and her gun.
So this was Ada? The very same woman Leon had told you about from Racoon City when you had both been separated in the mayhem. The woman who he would tell you kept popping up on his jobs.
Placing a hand on the back of his shoulder you step around your husband, his finger leaving the trigger, almost starting to squeeze it. Still keeping it trained on Ada he makes sure you weren't in the way if he needed to in fact, shoot her.
"What do you plan on doing with her?" You ask.
Ada just glanced down at the still sleeping babe, a smirk pulling at one side of her lips then lifting her gaze to you once again. You had stepped close enough for the barrel of her pistol to be pressed against your collar bone. Ada frowns at how ballsy you were, she could tell why Leon had fallen for you and was still with you even after so long.
"Sorry, but I don't work and tell."
Leon was stood directly behind you, so you knew she wouldn't shoot, just in case she hit him. Ada not expecting the speed in which you had grabbed her wrist and lifted her arm to the ceiling, your grip making Ada wince slightly as you step even closer. Yes, you were shorter than she was, by half a head, but your intense stare made up for your height intimidation.
"You'll hand my baby back to me now and leave the same way you came in. And if I ever..." You lower your voice to a growl. "Ever! See you again, I will Not hesitate to shoot you, unlike my husband."
Ada tilts her head up, seeing in your eyes you weren't joking. Maybe the job she thought would be easy wasn't, not with you being the child's mother. She looks to Leon who was smirking at you, she could tell he was impressed by your show of protection for your daughter. Reluctantly she allows you to take your baby back from her arm, your hand still holding her wrist tight.
Once your daughter was back in your arms and only then did you remove your grip from Ada's wrist. Leon pulls you back into his side as he keeps his gun on Ada.
"You heard her.. On your way." Leon motions with his gun for her to leave through the open window.
Once she leaves you wait before removing your gaze from the window and felt your legs go weak under you, the adrenaline leaving your body almost instantly. Leon saw you drop and half catches you, kneeling down beside you as you sat on the carpeted floor, cradling your baby.
"You okay?" Leon asked seeing you starting to tremble.
"Y-Yeah, I'm okay, just.. my legs aren't working right now. Heh.." You were so scared, but protecting your daughter was your main objective, worrying about if you got shot later. "Did.. Did I do good?"
Leon just lets out a low chuckle from a closed mouth, rubbing your arms to help calm you down. "Yeah, I was even scared for a moment there." He didn't want to put his daughter back in her crib, not tonight. And it looked like neither did you, so he ends up scooping you into his arms while you held your baby.
"No you weren't.." You pout.
"Really, I was." He carries you back into your bedroom, placing you on your side of the bed. "I was scared you would be shot."
"Oh.. Right."
Leon walks down stairs to fetch a U-shaped pillow, placing it in the centre of your bed. You then gently lay your daughter in the middle, both of her parents laying on either side of her for protection. You lay on your side, head on the pillow surrounding the tiny infant. Leon was doing the same, reaching down to use his index finger to draw tiny circles on the inside of her open palm.
She closed her fingers around Leon's finger causing a big smile to pull the corners of his lips. You watch the smile on his face and he looks up to you.
"I was really proud of you for standing up against Ada. You were so hot."
"Oh please." You blush and pull the blanket over your shoulder. "You probably do that type of thing daily."
"Yes.. Sort of.. But you don't. God, I love you so much." He said reaching over his daughter and gently touching your cheek.
Your cheeks turn a darker red and look in his eyes that looked at you with pure admiration. He had seen a new side of you tonight and it only made him fall more in love with you.
"I love you too, but we really need to figure out something about house security so this doesn't happen again."
